Episode 4 - Encounters with the Unknown: Tales from the Edge of Reality
This episode delves into the extraordinary and the enigmatic, guiding us through two compelling narratives that challenge our understanding of reality. The first tale, "There Be Giants Here," recounts a harrowing encounter faced by a team of Green Berets in Afghanistan, where they confront a colossal creature that defies explanation. The second story, "The Haunting of Hale Bar," follows Clara Henshaw, a determined reporter, as she investigates supernatural occurrences at a dam steeped in tragedy and local lore. Through these narratives, we explore the thin veil separating the known from the unknown, raising profound questions about the nature of fear, belief, and the inexplicable phenomena that lurk in the shadows of our reality. Join us as we venture into realms where the extraordinary disrupts the ordinary, inviting contemplation of what lies beyond the surface of our understanding.
A vivid exploration of the unexplainable begins with a narrative that transports us to the Badik Shan Province in Afghanistan during the tumultuous period of Operation Enduring Freedom. The story, 'There Be Giants Here,' recounts the harrowing experiences of a team of Green Berets who venture into the heart of unforgiving terrain, only to confront a terror beyond comprehension. The backdrop of war is a catalyst for extraordinary occurrences, as soldiers return with tales that blur the lines between reality and myth. The narrative intricately weaves the psychological impacts of combat with the eerie notion of mythical creatures lurking in the shadows. As the team encounters a mysterious goatherd who warns against entering a particular valley, the tale unfolds with an ominous sense of foreboding, culminating in a confrontation with a colossal being that defies the natural order. The recounting of this encounter not only serves as a testament to the resilience of the human spirit but also leaves the listener questioning the very nature of reality itself. The episode invites us to ponder whether these accounts are rooted in truth or merely figments of a soldier's mind grappling with the horrors of war.
Takeaways:
- The podcast episode showcases the intersection of reality and the extraordinary, exploring tales that defy explanation.
- Listeners are taken on a journey through two captivating stories, each steeped in mystery and intrigue.
- The first narrative recounts a harrowing encounter with a giant creature during a military operation in Afghanistan.
- The second tale delves into the haunting experiences of Clara Henshaw at a cursed dam in Tennessee.
- These stories prompt contemplation about the nature of belief, the supernatural, and the unknown.
- The episode encourages us to consider whether such phenomena are real or merely products of the human imagination.
Transcript
Imagine a world teetering on the edge of the familiar, a place where the fabric of the everyday begins to unravel, revealing glimpses of the extraordinary lurking beneath.
Speaker A:You're about to embark on a journey into the enigmatic, where the peculiar and the perplexing intertwine, where every tale twists the mind and tugs at the spirit.
Speaker A:It's a descent into the strange, the mysterious, and the unexplained.
Speaker A:This is when reality frays.
Speaker A:New episodes are published every Monday and Thursday, and when Reality phrase is available everywhere, find podcasts are found.
Speaker A:Before we move on, please take a moment and hit that Follow or Subscribe button and turn on all reminders so you're alerted when new episodes are released.
Speaker A:Today's episode contains two stories.
Speaker A:First up, is There Be Giants Here, a story from a war zone about a creature that can't be explained.
Speaker A:And the second story of the day is the Haunting of Hale Bar, a tale of strange happenings that a reporter will wish she had never investigated.
Speaker A:Thank you for listening.
Speaker A:Now let's get to the stories.
Speaker A:Since the dawn of armed conflict between humans, soldiers have returned from the battlefield with fantastic stories of unexplainable events.
Speaker A:Commonly, the tales they tell would seem to be of supernatural origin.
Speaker A:Why is that?
Speaker A:Is there something about the visceral, adrenaline fueled viciousness of killing another human being that causes a soldier's mind to fabricate something as a coping mechanism to retain his sanity?
Speaker A:Or perhaps are there things out there in the shadows that we haven't discovered yet?
Speaker A:Because only in time of war do heavily armed groups of men come face to face with them.
Speaker A:Where a simple shepherd or an adventurer or a hiker who wanders away from civilization won't survive an encounter with a one of these creatures.
Speaker A:A team of heavily armed men superbly trained in the art of war fighting can come out victorious with a story no one will believe.
Speaker A:This story is notable because the US government, specifically the DoD and the CIA, categorically deny these events ever occurred.
Speaker A:There is nothing in publicly available DoD records to support the claims of those involved, but that denial, along with five bucks, will buy you a small black coffee.
Speaker A: tory of There be giants here,: Speaker A:It's the height of Operation Enduring Freedom.
Speaker A:US Forces are hunting the Taliban and Al Qaeda in some of the world's most unforgiving terrain, and we're coming along in the search for a missing team of Army Green Berets.
Speaker A:The Badikshan province spans about 17,000 square miles, making it one of Afghanistan's larger provinces.
Speaker A:It's dominated by the Hindu Kush mountain range and home to Afghanistan's highest peak.
Speaker A:The province is a nearly indecipherable maze of jagged peaks, steep valleys, high plateaus and rushing rivers.
Speaker A:It's a hard place, one of the most remote on the planet, peopled by nomadic herders and opium farmers, and with an extensive system of naturally occurring caves.
Speaker A:It's also perfect for insurgents to hide from the American military.
Speaker A:The missing six man team of Green Berets had made their last check in four days ago.
Speaker A:They were following up on whispers picked up by the CIA that insurgents were massing in an area high in the Hindu Kush in preparation for a major offensive.
Speaker A:So far, they'd found nothing to substantiate the intelligence, but they had encountered an Afghani man and his two sons, who were tending a flock of goats.
Speaker A:The father had seemed friendly enough, even warning them against approaching a specific valley several thousand feet higher in the mountains.
Speaker A:When pressed for an explanation, the man hinted at a demon or Jinnah haunting the area, a claim dismissed as superstition by the Green Beret team leader.
Speaker A:He was suspicious of the goatherd's warning and reported they would be scouting the valley.
Speaker A:He was warned against approaching.
Speaker A:This was the last contact with the team, despite multiple scheduled check ins having come and gone.
Speaker A:Overflights of Air Force reconnaissance planes equipped with thermal and high resolution cameras that can identify a flea on a Camel's ass from 10,000ft had failed to find any trace of the team.
Speaker A:Now 12 Green Berets were on the ground searching for their missing brothers.
Speaker A:This team had been dropped 12 cliques away from the suspect valley under a moonless sky.
Speaker A:The air was thick with dust, the silence broken only by the moaning sigh of a frigid wind.
Speaker A:The going was hard, but so were the men and they pushed on all night and the following day they didn't encounter any of the goatherds known to be in the area.
Speaker A:But as the sun was setting, they came across the bloody remains of what appeared to have once been a goat.
Speaker A:It was a relatively fresh kill and the hardened warriors were slightly unnerved by the state of the animal's corpse.
Speaker A:Its legs had been violently wrenched from its body and stripped of flesh.
Speaker A:Bones were cracked open and missing the marrow.
Speaker A:Deep gouges in each spoke of incredibly powerful jaws and sharp, hard teeth.
Speaker A:The men were left with a sense of foreboding as they trudged on and darkness descended over the Hindu Kush.
Speaker A:Near midnight, the team cautiously approached the valley.
Speaker A:It was Broad, the valley floor cut by fissures and flanked by sheer rock faces pocked with caves.
Speaker A:It felt like a natural trap.
Speaker A:The men spread out as they surveyed the valley through night vision.
Speaker A:The team leader used a thermal scope to check for heat sources that might be hidden from night vision, but saw nothing other than cold, hard stone, until he scanned across the mouth of a large cave and caught the briefest of flashes of heat.
Speaker A:It could have been a man moving out of sight or an animal settled in for the night that had been disturbed by their arrival.
Speaker A:He'd been unable to identify what was in the cave that was producing body heat.
Speaker A:With hand signals, he communicated to the rest of the men instructing the team's sniper, who was equipped with a.50 caliber rifle and gunner, who carried a saw or squad assault weapon, a light machine gun, to remain on overwatch.
Speaker A:Their job was to protect the rest of the team in case they came under attack.
Speaker A:Standing silently, the leader gestured, and the rest of the team moved with him.
Speaker A:As they neared the cave entrance, a stench hit them, A rancid mix of decay and something musky, like wet fur left to rot.
Speaker A:Bones littered the ground, gnawed and splintered, the same as the goat they'd encountered earlier.
Speaker A:The team's point man raised a fist, signaling a halt, then gesturing for the team leader to join him on the ground.
Speaker A:At his feet was a dismembered human skeleton, violently ripped apart with the femur bones cracked open and missing their marrow.
Speaker A:Dread gripped the team leader's heart when he spotted a shred of fabric amongst the bones.
Speaker A:It was colored and patterned the same as the camouflage he wore.
Speaker A:Then came a sound lo a guttural rumble more felt than heard, vibrating through their chests.
Speaker A:Before they could react, a giant charged out of the cave.
Speaker A:The giant stood as tall as three men, nearly 18ft.
Speaker A:Its frame was broad and sinewy, and muscles rippled beneath a pelt of coarse reddish brown hair matted with dirt and blood.
Speaker A:Its skin were visible, was leathery and grayish, scarred from untold battles.
Speaker A:The face was the fuel of nightmares.
Speaker A:Vaguely human with a protruding brow, deep set eyes glinting like embers, and a maw of jagged teeth.
Speaker A:Its hands, each with six long clawed fingers, gripped a crude weapon, a spear or blade forged from bone.
Speaker A:The first strike was lightning fast.
Speaker A:The creature skewered a man through the chest with such force that his body lifted off the ground before being torn in half.
Speaker A:Scrambling to open some distance from the rampaging beast, the team opened fire.
Speaker A:A deafening cacophony of 5.56 millimeter rounds.
Speaker A:The giant roared and swung its weapon with such force that another man's skull was crushed as he was decapitated.
Speaker A:As the team created space, the the gunner opened up the saw's relentless chatter, shredding the night.
Speaker A:Bullets tore into the giant, but it hardly faltered under the onslaught.
Speaker A:Grenades were thrown, the beast's flesh shredded, yet it kept coming, roaring, a sound the men compared to a lion.
Speaker A:Later, one of them claimed it swatted away a grenade in midair, the explosion barely staggering it.
Speaker A:The fight was an intense 30 seconds.
Speaker A:The giant's resilience defied logic.
Speaker A:It absorbed a barrage that would have felled any man instantly, until the sniper fired a single shot from his.50 caliber Barrett rifle that punched through the beast's head.
Speaker A:It collapsed in a heap of stinking gore, its weight so great the men felt the impact with the ground in the soles of their boots.
Speaker A:The surviving soldiers were rattled.
Speaker A:Two were dead.
Speaker A:The giant's corpse lay sprawled across the cave entrance, too massive to drag.
Speaker A:The team leader's voice was rough with adrenaline and disbelief as he made a call on a satellite phone requesting an emergency evac.
Speaker A:A CH47 Chinook, a massive helicopter with twin rotors, arrived within hours.
Speaker A:The crew, briefed only to expect a large asset, rigged the body with cargo netting and chains, hoisting it beneath the chopper.
Speaker A: sted, the weight estimated at: Speaker A:The Giant's corpse and the team were flown to an undisclosed location where they were met by army intelligence officers and some representatives of the CIA.
Speaker A:The giant was placed into a hermetically sealed box, which was last seen being loaded aboard a C17 Globemaster.
Speaker A:The survivors of the Green Beret team and the Chinook's pilots and crew were held for several days in isolation before receiving a visit from a pair of unknown men accompanied by an army general whose uniform was missing the name tape.
Speaker A:This never happened, they were told, then were required to sign multiple national security non disclosure agreements acknowledging they would be subject to immediate arrest and indefinite detention if they revealed anything they had experienced.
Speaker A:The two soldiers who died in the fight with the giant were recovered and their deaths attributed to enemy action, as were the deaths of the first team of Green Berets who had gone missing.
Speaker A:The Giant's remains unknown, but there are reports that the same C17 that departed Afghanistan with a creature landed at Wright Patterson Air Force Base the following day.
Speaker A:That's as far as the trail goes.
Speaker A:Is there any truth to this story.
Speaker A:Consider that Afghani Pashtun have told tales for centuries of giant, hairy man like beings prowling the Hindu Kush.
Speaker A:They are often linked to jinn, or cursed warriors.
Speaker A:The bones in the cave hint at a predator that had remained undisturbed until the war brought intruders into its home.
Speaker A:Could such creatures hide in the dark, dusty corners of the world, waiting to be discovered?
Speaker A:Or is it the fever dream of a soldier who's seen too much combat?
Speaker A:Very likely we'll never know the truth.
Speaker A:Today's second story is the haunting of Hale Barr.
Speaker A:Clara Henshaw, a woman armed with a camera, a notebook and a skepticism as sturdy as the concrete walls of the Hales Bar Dam.
Speaker A:She arrives at this quiet marina, a speck on the Tennessee river, seeking stories of restless spirits and cursed waters.
Speaker A:What she finds, however, is not merely a tale to scribble down, but a doorway, one that swings wide to a realm where the past refuses to drown and the whispers of the dead are louder than the living.
Speaker A:This is the story of the haunting of Hale's Bar.
Speaker A:Clara Henshaw wasn't afraid of the dark.
Speaker A:At least not until Hale's Bar.
Speaker A:At 32, she had spent a decade chasing the uncanny, her life a patchwork of dusty archives, sleepless nights and half finished coffee cups.
Speaker A:She had written about poltergeist in Ohio, farmhouses, spectral hitchhikers on empty Arizona highways, and the inexplicable wails of the Louisiana bayous.
Speaker A:Her readers, mostly enthusiasts on obscure forums, called her fearless.
Speaker A:She called herself stubborn, a freelance writer with no roots.
Speaker A:Cuera lived out of a beat up Toyota, corruption, a camera and notebook, her only constant companions.
Speaker A:Hale's Bar Marina and Dam, nestled on Lake Nickajack in Tennessee, was her latest fixation, its legends tugging at her like a loose thread.
Speaker A: In late October: Speaker A:The drive was quiet, the radio crackling with static as she wound through the hills.
Speaker A:In preparation, she had researched the dam obsessively.
Speaker A: Construction began in: Speaker A:But the limestone bedrock betrayed it.
Speaker A:It was porous, leaked relentlessly.
Speaker A:Sudden floods due to structural failures claimed nearly a hundred lives over the course of its construction and failed filling.
Speaker A:Workers died by the dozen, crushed under falling beams, swept away in the floods, and an unfortunate few were sealed alive in wet concrete when a tunnel collapsed.
Speaker A:The locals blamed a Cherokee curse tied to sacred land, drowned by the rising waters.
Speaker A: d, had stood on the Bluffs in: Speaker A: By: Speaker A:Clara arrived at Hale's Bar Marina as the sun dipped low, casting long shadows over the wall water.
Speaker A:At first blush, the place was a postcard, floating cabins bobbing gently, boats humming across the lake, and the air smelled of pine.
Speaker A:She checked into Cabin seven, a weathered rental with creaky floors and a porch overlooking the dock.
Speaker A:The clerk, Hank Grayson, was a wiry man in his 50s, his face etched with sun and tobacco.
Speaker A:You here for the ghost?
Speaker A:He had asked, sliding her the key.
Speaker A:His tone was light, but his eyes lingered on her.
Speaker A:Camera maybe, she replied with a grin.
Speaker A:Heard any good stories lately?
Speaker A:He gave her an annoyed look and scratched his beard.
Speaker A:Don't go poking too deep, you hear?
Speaker A:She nodded, accustomed to the reaction when people found out why she was there.
Speaker A:She tried to brush it off, but his warning had coiled itself around her chest.
Speaker A:As she hauled her bag to the cabin that first evening, Clara settled on the porch with her notebook.
Speaker A:The river glinted gold in the fading light.
Speaker A:The marina's bar thrummed with weekenders, fishermen, retirees, a few college kids.
Speaker A:She sipped coffee from her thermos, jotting notes.
Speaker A: Cherokee curse: Speaker A:The dam's silhouette loomed across the lake, its powerhouse a dark hulk against the trees.
Speaker A:As night fell, the air thickened, the temperature plunging.
Speaker A:Despite the mild forecast, the water stilled, a mirror for the moon.
Speaker A:And then she heard it.
Speaker A:Whispers, faint and fluid, like voices.
Speaker A:Submerged, Clara froze, pin hovering, she leaned toward the sound, but it slipped away, masked by a fish's splash.
Speaker A:She shook her head, passing it off to a night breeze, and retreated inside, locking the door with a click that felt too loud.
Speaker A:Sleep came fitfully at midnight.
Speaker A:A sharp tapping snapped her awake.
Speaker A:Three wraps.
Speaker A:Precise.
Speaker A:She bolted upright, heart thudding as she fumbled on the weak bedside lamp.
Speaker A:Outside, the night was ink black, the light reflecting her wide eyed face in the window pane.
Speaker A:The tapping didn't repeat, but at the threshold of hearing began a hum, low, resonant, vibrating through the cabin's walls, breath coming short.
Speaker A:Clara grabbed her camera and stepped out onto the porch.
Speaker A:She immediately began snapping photos, turning a few degrees after every push of the shutter.
Speaker A:The flash flared across the water like silent lightning.
Speaker A:Back inside, Clara eagerly checked the digital images she had just captured.
Speaker A:She grew disappointed as photo after photo showed only mist creeping over the water.
Speaker A:One frame, though, revealed something on the dock, a tall, thin shape, its edges smudged like smoke.
Speaker A:She tried to pass it off as a blur, but goose flesh prickled her back the longer she stared at the image.
Speaker A:She zoomed in, but whatever it was dissolved into noise.
Speaker A:Imagination, she whispered.
Speaker A:Morning brought clarity.
Speaker A:Or so she thought.
Speaker A:Over coffee, Clara reviewed her notes and photos, the Bory figure gnawing at her skepticism.
Speaker A:She decided to explore the powerhouse.
Speaker A:Hank had mentioned guided tours, but she preferred solitude.
Speaker A:At the marina office, she flashed a smile at a $20 bill, coaxing him into lending her a key.
Speaker A:Bring it back by dusk, he said sharply.
Speaker A:And don't be messing round in the lower levels.
Speaker A:They've been flooded since 67, and things move down there that shouldn't.
Speaker A:She pocketed the key, ignoring the chill.
Speaker A:His words sparked and headed out.
Speaker A:The powerhouse squatted at the marina's edge, its concrete stained green with moss, its windows shattered like broken teeth.
Speaker A:Inside, the air was damp and heavy, reeking of rust and rot.
Speaker A:Clara's flashlights swept over relics of the past.
Speaker A:Rusted turbines, tangled cables, walls scrawled with graffiti.
Speaker A:They SEE YOU in red, GET OUT in black.
Speaker A:She descended a spiral staircase to the turbine well and shined her light at the inky surface that hid the flooded depths below.
Speaker A:The stories rushed back, workers trapped in collapsing tunnels, their screams swallowed by cement.
Speaker A:Cherokee burial grounds flooded as the water rose.
Speaker A:Bodies that shouldn't have been disturbed were washed downstream.
Speaker A:The chief at the time claimed their spirits had been released and were angry at being condemned to roam the river for eternity.
Speaker A:Clara's flashlight flickered.
Speaker A:Old batteries, she told herself.
Speaker A:But a shadow darted across the wall, sharp and human.
Speaker A:Hello?
Speaker A:She called, her throat constricting.
Speaker A:Silence answered, but the air turned icy, prickling her arms.
Speaker A:She snapped a photo, the flash illuminating the room for a heartbeat.
Speaker A:It revealed a figure on the catwalk above the briefest of impressions.
Speaker A:Impressions of a gaunt, eyeless face.
Speaker A:The head tilted as if listening.
Speaker A:Clara whipped up her flashlight, but the catwalk was bare.
Speaker A:Pulse pounding, she climbed up to the catwalk.
Speaker A:The metal groaned, threatening to collapse and carry her to her own watery demise.
Speaker A:But she persisted.
Speaker A:Reaching the catwalk, she stared in disbelief at a pair of wet footprints.
Speaker A:She knelt to photograph them, her light blinking out before she could.
Speaker A:Darkness crashed over her, thick and alive.
Speaker A:Whispers surged in the dark, a cacophony of voices, urgent and pleading, punctuated by an occasional scream that ignited a visceral terror within Clara, Hands trembling, she brought out her phone as the whispers became a wail.
Speaker A:The key Hank had let her borrow inadvertently came with it, falling into the water below with an unnaturally loud plop.
Speaker A:Clara fumbled with the phone, desperate for light.
Speaker A:Something grabbed her arm, something colder than ice.
Speaker A:Clara screamed and stumbled back, dropping her phone.
Speaker A:Who's there?
Speaker A:She shouted, voice breaking.
Speaker A:The wail stopped, replaced by a hissed command.
Speaker A:Leave.
Speaker A:Panic clawed at her throat and her heart threatened to beat out of her chest.
Speaker A:She groped along the railing, blind and gasping, until she reached the stairs and fled upward.
Speaker A:Exiting the power station, she didn't break stride, just ran for the marina's lights, which were like a beacon of safety to her.
Speaker A:Back in cabin seven, Clara barricaded the door with a chair and sank onto the bed, shaking the cold touch winger, and she could barely breathe when she saw a faint handprint where she had been touched.
Speaker A:A handprint the size of a child.
Speaker A:Sleep.
Speaker A:Impossible.
Speaker A:She watched the window as mist thickened over the lake.
Speaker A:At 3am the tapping returned, slower now, deliberate.
Speaker A:Circling the cabin, she clutched her camera, too afraid to look, until dawn broke, gray and heavy with a promise of rain brain.
Speaker A:She checked out at first light, avoiding Hank's gaze.
Speaker A:Lost the key, she muttered, shoving some cash into his hand.
Speaker A:He studied her pale face, then nodded.
Speaker A:Happens, he said, but his eyes flicked to the powerhouse driving away.
Speaker A:Clara glanced in her rearview mirror.
Speaker A:The marina faded, serene in the morning haze, the powerhouse a silent sentinel.
Speaker A:She exhaled, tension easing, until she saw her notebook on the passenger seat.
Speaker A:It lay open to a blank page, now scrawled with jagged words.
Speaker A:We stay.
Speaker A:Her stomach dropped.
Speaker A:She swerved, nearly clipping a guardrail.
Speaker A:Screeching to a stop.
Speaker A:She snatched the notebook off the seat and flung it into the backseat.
Speaker A:Safely home in Nashville, Clara burned the notebook.
Speaker A:She refused to write about her experience at Hale's Bar, instead moving on to a Maine lighthouse story.
Speaker A:But Hale's Bar wouldn't release her.
Speaker A:At night she could hear the wind carry whispers, her name soft and insistent.
Speaker A:Dreams drowned her in dark water, small hands tugging at her ankles.
Speaker A:One morning she woke to find her Nikon on the nightstand, Wynn's cap off, though she'd boxed it away.
Speaker A:The memory card held a new photo, the Powerhouse at dusk, mist curling over the dock and a cluster of shadowy child sized figures.
Speaker A:Clara burned the card in her sink, the plastic curling black.
Speaker A:She sold the camera, quit freelancing, and took a job at a small local newspaper covering zoning laws and bake sales.
Speaker A:Something safe, something mundane.
Speaker A:Months passed and life returned to normal for Clara until a package with no return address arrived.
Speaker A: ellow newspaper clipping from: Speaker A:Dam claims another boy, eight lost in flood Clara Henshaw thought she could leave Hale's Bar behind, pick up her fears, trade her camera for a desk job, and silence the echoes of that haunted place.
Speaker A:But the river, it seems, has a memory longer than any notebook and its tenants.
Speaker A:Those lost souls of concrete and flood followed her not in body but in shadow and whisper, a reminder, perhaps, that some doors are better left closed.
Speaker A:The stories presented are inspired by true events.
Speaker A:Names may have been changed for privacy reasons.
Speaker A:New episodes of When Reality Freys are uploaded every Monday and Thursday.
Speaker A:If you're enjoying the journey into the strange, the mysterious, and the unexplained, be sure to press that Follow or Subscribe button and turn on all reminders so you're alerted whenever an episode drops.
Speaker A:Until next time, thank you for listening to When Reality phrase.
